


Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Anincompleteproject



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (more like Sauntered vaguely downwards), 6000 years is definitely slowburn, Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Calls Aziraphale 'Angel' (Good Omens), Crowley needs a hug, Crowley was Raphael before he fell, Gabriel is not an arse in this, I mean he literally whacked Crowley, M/M, Ok I lied Gabriel is an arse in the beginning, Yes the title is a queen song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-08-11 09:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anincompleteproject/pseuds/Anincompleteproject
Summary: Aziraphale thinks of all the times that Crowley had been there and ultimately feels bad. So when word gets round that the Archangel Raphael is still alive, Aziraphale tries to track them down for Crowley. What could go wrong, amiright?(I wrote this story somewhere in Wattpad under a different title. Sorry for the inconvenience)





	1. Chapter 1

**Somewhere in Europe, 1349 AD**

Wails and screams could be heard throughout the entire hospital. There was a cacophony of buzzing that filled Crowley's head. It nearly blocked out all of his thoughts until he snapped himself out of it, reminding himself why he was there in the first place. The reek of rotten flesh, death and other unpleasant things made Crowley feel sick. He had disguised himself as one of those doctors who wear those strange headpieces to get access to a specific patient.

He rushed into a ward which contained a young boy who looked like he was already as good as dead. Crowley took off his mask and made his way towards the boy. He knelt down to come face to face with the boy. The demon felt the boy's gaze fall upon him and felt a surge of... pity? No, that couldn't be possible. He was a demon. Demons can't feel pity.

He snapped himself out of it once again and channeled some of his energy. He grabbed the boy's hands and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he could still heal, even praying a bit, (even though that would mean that he'd burn himself.) Thats when he felt something happen. He had forgotten what it felt like to heal (it _had_ been a few hundred years, give or take. Which should not feel like much to Crowley but this is healing we're talking about, not something simpler like the Gavotte.) But when he reopened his eyes, he couldn't help but to sigh in relief. The child was still slightly ill to avoid raising suspicion, but he'll survive.

The boy suddenly burst into tears. Crowley's eyes widened, not knowing what to do and looked around frantically for a nurse or something. He soon decided to take matters into his own hands.

He patted the child's head awkwardly and mustered up the least demonic voice that he could and gently asked, "What's wrong, my boy?" The child just shook his head and continued to weep. At last, the child muttered, "M- mama... She- she said that sh- she'll come for me but..." He trailed off, more tears streaming down his cheeks. Crowley now wished that he had asked Aziraphale to come with him. Him being an angel and all that.

After a while, the child had calmed down once again. He began to drift off to sleep until he suddenly snapped awake, his eyes inquisitive and bright as he scanned the demon's face.

"Are you an angel?"

Crowley felt himself tense up at the question.

The child lit up, suddenly shooting up and smiling. He demanded, "You are! What is your name?"

The serpent barely hesitated before responding, "Erm... Crowley."

The child's eyes sparkled with mirth. "That's not a real name."

Crowley had never felt so offended by a child before. "It _is_! It'ss my name, therefore it means that it's real." The demon finished proudly.

The kid stared at him unimpressed. 

Crowley suddenly felt like taking a dive into an inflatable pool full of holy water. He then looked up at the kid, seeing his face filled to the brim with hope. He sighed and bit his lip. He was sooo going to fucking regret this later.

"Fine. It's- it's Raphael," he murmured. And with that, he disappeared, but not before hearing the kid reply,

"Well my name is Anthony."


	2. Chapter 2

**A.Z Fell & Co. bookshop, 7 months after the Almost-geddon**

Aziraphale was busy sifting through a newly arrived pile of books. He had been looking for them for weeks. It was a miracle that he managed to get his hands on them. (Looking at you, Crowley.) The books were pretty tricky to get as most of them were first editions, which were what Aziraphale prided himself in collecting.

He was about to put them away onto the shelves nearby when a particular book caught his eye. It was a book about Archangels written by one of those ancient priest people. There were four figures on the cover, three which bore some resemblance to the actual Archangels themselves (which was quite impressive for humans) and one with long, bright locks of hair, who was clearly supposed to resemble <strike>Sandalpho </strike> Raphael. The missing one.

Metatron said on _supposedly_ God's behalf that he was killed during the War. Nobody except Sandalphon (who was supposed to replace Raphael) believed him. He was the Archangel of fricking_ Healing_ for Someone's sake. Of course, they never voiced out their doubts. They wouldn't dare. Some angels believed that he ran away to Alpha Centauri, spending the rest of his eternal days looking after the stars that he had oh so dearly loved. Others believed that he was here on Earth, helping the weak and healing the sick like he was made to. Regardless of what the angels thought had happened, they all could agree on one thing, they miss him. Nobody dared to look for the healer: although it had happened 6000 years ago, it was still a touchy subject. He was one of the Almighty's favourites.

Aziraphale sighed and piled up the books neatly. Raphael was gone and there was no chance that he was ever going to come back. Best not to dwell in the past. He then miracled the books onto the shelves accordingly. Ever since his side had gotten off his back, he started to use more and more miracles. What could Gabriel do now, send another strongly-worded note? Threaten him with hellfire? Didn't think so, Aziraphale thought smugly. 

That's when the angel felt something. 

He turned around and immediately grabbed the nearest object to him (which was a potted plant that Crowley had gifted him), brandishing it. On his armchairs and couch seated in front of him were Gabriel and Sandalphon. 

Just then, as if he had sensed that Airaphale was in danger, Crowley appeared out of thin air with his back turned to them. He was clearly misting the house plants when this was happening as he was holding the mister that he had bought to replace the one that Hastur broke. He was in a state of disarray, stumbling around getting used to the new environment. He finally had the bright idea to turn around. 

If you were to try to guess how Crowley reacted, you probably couldn't. Not that I'm saying that you _couldn't_, it's just that it happened too fast for anyone in the room to comprehend. It went something along the line of him hissing, shouting some random curse words (no, not ducks), stumbling around more (almost knocking over some things in the process) and finally stopping. He glared at the two Archangels through his sunglasses and glanced at Aziraphale, raising a brow with an unspoken question. Aziraphale simply squinted, a way of asking Crowley to elaborate. 

Gabriel cleared his throat to remind them that he and his accomplice were still there.

The demon groaned in annoyance and finally demanded, "What are you wankers doing here?" Gabriel sat up a little and straightened his tie. Aziraphale barely managed to prevent himself from raising a brow at him. He had never seen Gabriel look so... 'nervous'. 

Before Aziraphale could ponder on it further, he felt something nudge him in the ribs. He turned his head to the left and saw Crowley gesturing to his (Zira's) right hand. It was only then that he realized that he was still holding the plant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading up to this far. :)  
Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome, obviously.


	3. Chapter 3

As Aziraphale gently set down the somewhat quivering plant onto the table, Crowley simply tossed the plant mister over his shoulder, miracling it away to his flat right before it could come into contact with the ground.

Gabriel scoffed at the use of such a 'frivolous' miracle and Sandalphon sneered. Aziraphale gave them the sharpest look he could muster.

Gabriel chose to ignore this and said (rather smugly), "Now that we are all settled down, I think that we can finally tell you, _traitors_, why we're here."

Crowley growled (*ahem* _hissed _) and was about to lunge at Gabriel but Aziraphale (even though he _did_ want to see Gabriel's ass get kicked) pulled him back. [Gabriel _was_ an Archangel.] He (Gabe) smirked slightly, "You might want to get your _pet-snake_ under control there. Wouldn't want someone handing him over to become an exhibit at the- what do you call it? Right! At the zoo," he finished smugly.

"WHY YOU-", now it was Aziraphale's turn to lunge at him. Crowley stopped him albeit reluctantly.

Aziraphale got a hold on himself and warily asked Gabriel to explain to them what was so important that they (Gabe and Sandalphon) had to miracle themselves into _his_ bookshop in the middle of the day when anyone nosy enough could see them. Well, those weren't his exact words but the tone that he was using implied it. Gabriel grew slightly anxious and abruptly stood up. Crowley placed a protective arm in front of Aziraphale as Gabriel began to close-in cautiously on them. Sandalphon simply stayed sitting on the couch, not interested enough to do anything except for looking around to check for any snoops.

As soon as Gabriel was close enough for both the demon and the Principality to grow a little nervous (not that Crowley would admit it), he dropped his voice to a low whisper, "There's word going 'round that the-" he stopped himself and scanned around the room as if the walls (or books) had ears, when he was seemingly satisfied, he continued, voice barely hearable even from how close they were, "-_missing Archangel, Raphael _ is on Earth." He backed away, giving the two a moment of silence to think about it. (And also picking up one of Aziraphale's <strike>material items</strike> books to see whether it was called Pornography.)

Aziraphale's brow was furrowed, his face pulled into a tight frown. He appeared to be in deep thought. Crowley, on the other hand, had an air of faux-nonchalance surrounding him. His expression was (forced to seem) neutral, and his posture was slightly slumped. If anyone was to take a closer look, they would've noticed that his shoulders were slightly tense, that his lip was slightly trembling, and that his breathing quickened. 

Crowley got himself together before any of the angels there could notice. He put on a mask of disinterest, "So? 'S not like we can do anything about it. 'sides, t's just a rumor." 

"IT'S NOT JUST A RUMOR-" Gabriel slammed the book onto the table that he was (DEFINITELY) standing next to. The angel-winged mug rattled and the pieces of paper flapped. He was fuming. This was the most emotion he had ever shown since-- well, before the War. Crowley winced.

Gabriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "it's not just a rumor," he muttered, plopping onto the armchair letting Sandalphon take over. Aziraphale would've felt sympathy for him if he hadn't told Crowley (who was in Aziraphale's body) to 'die already'. 

Sandalphon stood up, "After the Armageddon was averted," he said, shooting a sharp look towards the two, "our agents checked all the memos and logs that we have been gathering to prevent any future cases of rebellion, and found this." He miracled a thick folder into his hand and handed it to Aziraphale. 

_So much for frivolous miracles_, thought the Principality. He started to flip through until he stopped at a page that caught his eye.

It was a recording of a miracle done in London,1941. He flipped again.

_London, 2 days to the end of the world,_   
_ Paintball guns turned into actual guns. Humans make 'miraculous escapes'. Paint out of a coat--_

"what-"

"Lemme see that," Crowley snatched it out of his grasp and read it. He stilled. "What the actual fuck is this." 

Gabriel grabbed it and slapped it shut. "It's 6000 years worth of miracles recorded under Raphael."

Crowley grunted and waved a hand flippantly, "Could be one of ours. I mean, heaven's not known for bein' intelligent." (That got him a whack on the backside of his head from Zira)

Sandalphon tutted, "That's not all. We also have prayers."

This time, it was Crowley who had received the folder. He glanced at it and passed it back to the Archangels, deliberately ignoring Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale huffed and asked, "We get that this is an important matter, but what do we have to do with this?" 

"Uriel and Michael are forming a search team as we speak, and as you two are exiled on Earth, we simply decided to give you two a heads-up to keep an eye out for him."

Before Crowley or Aziraphale could protest, the two Archangels disappeared. Leaving a small, cream-colored card on the couch. Crowley walked over to pick it up, squinting to read the incredibly tiny print. 

It was a business card.

* * *

* * *

Later that night, the angel and the demon got shit-faced. They were having what Aziraphale claimed to be the 'best of wines' to try and forget their experience with Gabriel and Sandalphon. Well, at least Crowley was. They were both having a <strike>creative</strike> drunken discussion about whether water was wet. 

Crowley was also getting off track, incoherently mumbling something about bebop and how it was not to be compared with stuff like Queen, The Velvet Underground, and ABBA. Aziraphale nodded vaguely. 

The angel took in a deep breath and finally decided to try and ask a question that had been plaguing his mind that day.   
He cleared his throat, trying to gain attention from Crowley. The demon continued to ramble, not hearing Aziraphale.

Aziraphale sighed and interrupted Crowley halfway through his passionate speech about 'Freddie Mercury's vocal range of four octaves' or something like that.

"Excuse me, dear, I was wondering if I could ask you a question," Aziraphale shifted to come closer to Crowley, their knees almost making contact.

Crowley snapped his head in Zira's direction. If he actually needed his heart, he would probably be dead. 

(Warning: Cringe level off the charts)

He gulped, "what izzssit, angel?" (His hissing slipping in slightly.)

Aziraphale frowned, _Why is it that Crowley always addresses him like that? _

"Why do you call me that?", he blurted out, not going with his original question. (He was going to regret that one day.)

"huh?" 

Aziraphale leaned in and breathed out, "Why don't you refer to me by my proper name?"

(By now they were both as red as really red apples.)

Crowley was looking everywhere except for Aziraphale's face,"wha- what're ya' talkin' bout?"

Aziraphale gave him an incredulous look. Crowley thinned his lips before giving in.

"too clossse," was all he could say.

"Oh." Zira immediately backed away, giving him a pained look. Crowley was confused with the sudden action, before realizing what it sounded like he was saying. His serpent-like eyes widened and he started to try to explain.

"t- that'ssss not what I meant, angel- I... I think imma sss-sober up."

The alcohol was starting to leave his bloodstream and he winced, feeling the bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. 

Aziraphale just sat there, watching him patiently. 

Crowley groaned and cracked his neck.

_He was trying to avoid the question_, Aziraphale deduced.

Crowley looked at Zira wearily before hw suddenly got up from the couch, eyes widening. He grabbed the card off of the table and fled for the door, slamming it shut and leaving one very confused and hurt Principality behind.

_Perhaps if Aziraphale hadn't sidetracked, he would have been able to find out why the miracles listed in the folder from earlier were strangely similar to Crowley's..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,   
Thank you for reading. I despise this work deeply so thank you for all your support. Criticism welcome. 
> 
> -nic from the future


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where the idiots are stepping on each other's toes. And Warlock may or may not be here.

**Tadfield (more specifically, Hogsback lane), 2 years after the Armageddon**

It has been approximately one year and five months since the news of Raphael has been released. Crowley had noticed that a lot more angels and demons were going around after that, he'd even seen Uriel. The serphent and Aziraphale had made up, leaving some unanswered questions for both sides. It was like there was this mental block stopping them from working out their problems together. Sure, they still dined at the Ritz, fed (read. terrorized) the ducks, got into their fair share of trouble and etc, but it wasn't the same.

Aziraphale has stopped inviting Crowley over to the bookshop for alcohol, and Crowley stopped taking off his sunglasses around him. [The staff at the Ritz noticed that they were starting to sit further and further away from each other, which led them to have bets about whether or not their regulars would finally 'rub their two brain cells together and kiss already' as Horatio, a waiter, so eloquently put it.] The distance was starting to kill them on the inside. (God herself was starting to grow tired of it, but it was all going according to her plan.) 

They were now sitting on opposite ends of a table in Anathema's backyard. It was Adam's thirteenth birthday and he wanted everybody to be there. Anathema had threatened to scratch the Bentley (with permanent damage, and of course, with Adam's help)if Crowley didn't show up with his counterpart. He wasn't really concerned until she pulled out the big guns. 

"I'll tell him about you obsession with sunflowers."

Crowley had also dropped his phone, dashing into the Bentley and speeding to Aziraphale's.

* * *

"Don't you think that something's off with those two?" Anathema asked, pointing at the two supernatural beings as Newton was busy scooping up some punch that contained a ridiculous amount of sugar.

He shrugged and held up the red cup as if he was toasting to the table holding the assortment of salads and replied, "Dunno, couldn't you just read their auras?" 

She glared at him but wordlessly did as he said. She squinted at the two figures and caught a short glimpse of their auras. Before she could decipher them, she felt something tugging on her right sleeve. 

She looked down to see Wensleydale. She was then pulled away from Pulsifer's side to her assigned seat in between Pepper and Sergeant Shadwell. Madame Tracy was sitting besides him. She was also the person who brought the cake. (It would've been Aziraphale but he was too disraught about the state of one of his Oscar Wilde books to get a cake.) 

Madame Tracy stood up and used her fork to clink her glass of grape juice, [Crowley had tried to bring champagne and vodka for the occasion but was quickly reprimanded by Zira] gaining the attention of everyone there, including Brian who was having a very intense stare-off with Dog. 

Everyone stared at her, expecting a speech of some kind. She simply smiled and looked at the birthday <strike>Antichrist</strike> boy. 

"Oh, right-" he stood up on his chair, despite the quiet protests from Aziraphale and the mildly surprised look from Crowley. 

He continued, "I'm supposed to be thanking you all for coming here and giving me presents. So, thank you. And before I forget, can someone point me to my presents? I was rather looking forward to opening them right now, but I can't seem to find them." He shot a look at Aziraphale, who had told him earlier to not use his Antichrist powers on his birthday for some reason. 

Aziraphale thinned his lips to form a tight smile as the demon on the opposite end of the table breathed out a quiet laugh. 

* * *

Everyone was having a chat with each other as the Them were having a brawl to catch up with each other. 

As soon as Anathema was sure that she wouldn't be distracted by anyone else, she decided to read the demon's aura. 

It was quite a view. She was too busy admiring it to gain any information and cursed when Crowley got up to leave.

* * *

Aziraphale was having a talk with Pepper about Oscar Wilde when he saw Crowley making a dash for the gate/exit, looking at his watch and mumbling something about being late.

He watched as Crowley explained to Adam that he had to use the loo. Adam raised a brow sceptically but nodded. 

Zira watched as Crowley ruffled Adam's hair and wished him happy birthday. The kid swatted his hand away.

Crowley left the backyard and disappeared. 

* * *

* * *

Warlock was sitting in his bedroom, the curtains drawn shut and the lights switched off, giving off a gloomy feel. It was his 13th birthday and the party was over. His dad was there, which was a pleasant surprise. But he couldn't help but to feel as if something was missing.

He flopped himself onto the bed and turned to his left. His parents had just given his room a makeover as he was 'coming to an age' when Transformer toys were deemed unfit for him. He was allowed to keep old stuff, sure. But only the ones that had loads of sentimental value. 

He now had a nightstand. He didn't have any particular use for it, it was for 'aesthetic pleasure' as his mom had said. There was a picture frame of him with a photo from when he was five.

He was smiling brightly and holding up a space ship that he made out of toilet paper rolls. Nanny Astoreth was with him, having a hint of a smile on her face. She was holding up a pair of dangerously sharp scissors as if she was planning to stab someone, which wasn't the case. She was actually about to stab open a packet of foam balls that were annoyingly resistant. 

She would've detested the idea of him doing anything like art and crafts projects but fortunately, she had a soft spot for space related subjects. She had spent the rest of the day telling him about the constellations and nebulae. He wasn't really paying that much attention to what she was saying. He was just focusing on how eager she seemed to be to share her knowledge about space, which for a nanny, was quite vast.

He remembered being upset when she and Brother Francis retired. He cried for an hour and refused to get out of bed the next day. Which was surprisingly mature for a six-year old.

He was going to continue to reminisce (sulk) when he heard a voice pipe up from behind.

"Why are you sulking there, dear?"

He shot up with wide eyes. He must have fallen asleep, there was no way that she was here. 

He was greeted by the red-haired nanny. 

"Holy shi--"

* * *

* * *

"Excuse me, dear, sorry to interrupt but have you any idea where Crowley may have gone?"

The person, or more specifically, ethereal being, who had just spoken was none other than the Principality Aziraphale. He was starting to grow worried as it has been exactly one hour, forty six minutes and seven seconds since Crowley had disappeared. 

Newton turned away from his conversation with Anathema and shrugged a little. Anathema gave the angel a look and continued to stare until the Witchfinder and the former Guardian of the Eastern Gate were beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

She suddenly stopped and gave the angel a pitiful smile. She turned to Newton and whispered something into his ear. The bespectacled man flushed pink and nodded, proceeding to walk away.

"Alright, let's get to the point Aziraphale, what happened between you and Crowley?"

Aziraphale gulped, mostly because: A. He was going to regret telling her, as he couldn't lie through it, he's an angel for goodness sake. And also she could read auras so she'd know when he was lying; and B. He didn't have fucking clue either.

"Well-" he began, "it's a long story..."

* * *

* * *

"Wha- h- why- How in the world are you here?"

"Not even a polite greeting? _Tsk. _Thought that the blasted gard'ner would've taught ya' somefin' bout manners."

Warlock grinned. Astoreth had a hint of a smirk on her face. It could've been easily mistaken for a sneer if you hadn't been living with her watching over you like a fairly irresponsible mother hen for six years.

He was too overwhelmed with happiness to further question how the former nanny had gotten in. Instead, he lept forward to hug her. She patted him on the back rather heartily and wished him a happy birthday in a whisper. He pulled back after a short while and asked her rather confused, "Why'd you come only now? It's been seven years since I last saw you."

Astoreth simply exhaled a slight sigh, sounding like an exhausted mother who had just given her child an ice-cream cone, only to be asked for a popsicle next. It was full of exasperation but fondness, the type that Crowley usually gives when his Angel does something remotely silly.

"It's your thirteenth birthday, love. Couldn't afford to miss it for the world."

The kid nodded slowly, as if taking in the words one by one. He was _really_ glad that she was here. 

They talked about how things have been going, how everyone has been, how hell hasn't ruled over the earth, and whether or not dinosaurs had any significance. 

In other words, they could talk about anything, so they talked about everything...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the hunt begins!

Crowley had left the manor the second it was time for Warlock to go to sleep. Warlock insisted that he could stay up till midnight but eventually gave in to the overwhelming fatigue that swept over him from the party earlier. Crowley sat there and watched the not-Antichrist sleep in a very non-demonic way. He miracled himself back into his flat and promptly collapsed onto the cold floor. He was heading off into dreamland when a single thought flashed in very bright, very big and very red letters. He had missed the rest of Adam's birthday for a supposedly urgent toilet break. He sniffed before finally drifting off to sleep. He would just deal with it tomorrow. 

* * *

* * *

"So you're telling me that there was a missing Archangel all this time?"

Aziraphale agreed but corrected the witch, "Yes, the other Archangel, Michael, made sure that Raphael is still remembered here. But that's not exactly the point, dear."

Anathema nodded vigorously and replied, "Oh, yeah. Right. Of course, of course. What I meant was you're telling me that you made all that-" She waved her finger in a circular motion at Airaphale as if she was trying to cast a very witchy spell, "-physical contact with Anthony just to ask him why he calls you 'angel'?" 

"Yes, what's wro- oh."

'Oh' indeed. It was at that very moment when he found out that he was an idiot. Anathema groaned in disapprobation. Aziraphale barely heard her mutter a 'you gotta be fucking kidding me'. Aziraphale frowned and was about to caution her about her language when Anathema exclaimed, "Well, how are you going to make it up to him?!" 

Aziraphale gave her a puzzled look. She swore under her breath once again. She was THIS CLOSE to flipping the bowl of jelly over his head. The witch took a deep breath and elaborated.

"Look, I'll try to put this into words that you will hopefully understand. You and Crowley are friends, right?" Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply with 'best friends' but she continued without letting him answer. Darn Americans. "Which means that whenever one of you guys have a problem, the other would be there to help." Aziraphale tried to voice out that she had gotten it all wrong but she simply shushed him and demanded that he let her continue.

The only reason that neither of them had directly expressed any annoyance or frustration was because of the one being that they had a particular fondness of. And it was also his birthday. Other than that... well, there was Crowley. 

_This was going to be a long day..._  
They both thought to themselves.

* * *

* * *

Crowley groaned and opened one of his eyes by a millimeter. He was going to grumble and continue his nap but he noticed two things. That one: he was laying on a couch when he was pretty sure that he had fallen asleep on the floor. And two: That this was obviously not his couch. •(It was 'too holy'.) It took the latter to get him up. He wrestled against the extremely soft blanket that was draped over him. But alas, all that effort was futile as he landed onto the floor. He blessed under his breath and propped himself up with his elbows. He snapped both of his snake-like eyes open to come face-to-face with one of the 'dudes' he wished to never see again. 

"Good morning, Raphael, I'm glad to see that you're finally awake."

He rolled his eyes. Michael had always been a pansy. He must've hit his head pretty hard 'cause right now, his speech was so frigging slurred.

"Ugh, feeling's not mutual 'm afraid." He reached up to his face to take his sunglasses off to get a better view of where they were now. Instead of feeling the frames, he was touching his face. He hissed, throwing his hands up in the air "Oh, for Heaven'ss sake. Not the glassess too..."

Michael simply shrugged and tried her best to bite back a grin as the former angel made strange hand gestures. Ralph always had a flair for the dramatics. 

* * *

* * *

Aziraphale slumped into his armchair and sighed, closing his eyes to rest for a while. He was too worn out to remember the rest of the conversation exactly the same but he did recall that it went a little something like this:

"Look Aziraphale, Crowley comes down here to Hogsback Lane at least once every month. Which means that we have plenty of time to catch up with one another. And do you know how much Crowley talks about himself?"  
Zira had shaken his head slightly. Anathema carried on with her crazed rant. 

"Well, he doesn't. At all. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his injuries, hell, he didn't tell me about his fall." [At this point, the witch was ticking the items off her list with her fingers]

"but do you know what he _does _talk about? Things that he loves. He won't stop blabbering about Queen, he won't stop talking about his plants, especially that fucking Nepenthes Attenboroughii that he managed to snag without any tempting, and he can't stop swooning over his Bentley. And worst of all, one thing that he just seems to be physically pained by not uttering a single word about is-"

Aziraphale suddenly knew where this was going. 

"-you."

Yup, totally called it. But for some reason, even though he already had a feeling that he knew where it was going to go, hearing it from someone else made his corporation seem to begin to malfunction. His face turned red, his palms started to sweat, and soon enough he found himself miracle-ing a chair (right from Sergeant Shadwell, who had blamed the sudden disappearance of his chair on witches). He was beaming. He was so happy for that fraction of a second that everyone outside of Tadfield had found that the rest of that one specific day was perfect.

(One lady had even found that the men who were trying to rob her simply bid her goodbye after handing her back her purse with a smile on their faces. She had also counted the money and found a few extra hundred pounds.)

He looked up at Anathema and grimaced. Of course, there was a catch. 

"Aziraphale," she began softly, "Crowley had shown up at my doorstep drunk out of his mind to let go of everything. He told me about the times you had rejected him over and over again." 

"I'm not telling you that you have to return his feelings, but at least tell him how you feel." She knelt down and smiled painfully, "He's confused now. And being honest here, you're kinda making it worse."

Newton had come up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Whether it was to stop her or to ask her whether she was done, the Principality didn't know.

Aziraphale cracked his eyes open. She was right. It all made sense now. The times that Crowley came to save him. The Bastille, The Blitz... the flashes of extreme love he sensed around the demon. 

Crowley _loved_ him.

"Holy shit," Aziraphale muttered to himself, not caring that much about his language.

He got up and started to pace in circles. He needed to find a way to reach out to Crowley. He needed someone who was close to him. He needed someone who shared the same interests as Crowley. 

He stopped dead in his tracks. What _did_ Crowley like? Music, kids, plants, astronomy... 

Aziraphale slapped his forehead. How could he have been so blind? Of course! What he has been looking for was right in front of him. It was obviously no coincidence that the demon had so many interests that were similar to Raphael's. 

Aziraphale chuckled lightly. "Of course, Crowley and Raphael were probably friends. That would explain a lot. And Crowley probably fell because he was asking too many questions about the Archangel."

It would make sense as Raphael was a pretty well-rounded being. He was like an older brother to everyone except for Michael and Lucifer. 

Aziraphale clapped his hands together and got to work. 

* * *

* * *

Crowley was standing in the middle of a room, in front of the four Archangels, who were currently discussing about him as if they didn't know that he was there. They were speaking in hushed whispers. 

Gabriel raised his voice slightly. "---no! Of course not. he's been gone for---" The rest was unheard by the demon.

Crowley groaned, if this continued any longer, he'll probably discorporate out of boredom.

He cut in as Sandalphon was about to speak. "Can someone tell me what's going on, and why I woke up on a couch in Heaven, of all places?"

* * *

* * *

Aziraphale briefly acknowledged the fact that he hadn't seen Crowley for the past three days. He was flipping through the pages of a very thick book at supersonic speed.

Eh, he'll probably show up soon. 

Aziraphale soon grew frustrated and slammed the book shut. Not a single book has been of help at all. It was almost as if most memories of Raphael had been wiped.

Aziraphale shook his head decisively. No, that only happened when an angel falls. 

He got up and decided to ask for help from a very specific witch.

* * *

* * *

"Well, we would like to ask you some questions like-"

"Why did you fall?" Uriel interrupted Gabriel.

Michael looked aghast and Sandalphon looked bemused. Crowley scratched his tattoo out of nervousness.

"Right, um... It's a long story."

"Good, because I like long stories." 

* * *

* * *

It's been a week. A week since Crowley had left the party early. A week since Aziraphale had last seen Crowley. 

He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to distract himself from the feeling of dread. Anathema took her seat in front of him.

"I'm assuming that you're visiting because of Anthony."

Aziraphale nodded. She smiled easily and asked what he needed.

He looked up cautiously and said, "I was wondering if you could tell me about Crowley's fall."

* * *

* * *

Crowley finished telling his long and winded tale. 

Gabriel face palmed and said, exasperated, "Of course you questioned Her right in her face." He glanced up at Crowley and sighed.

Michael furrowed her brows in a very unagelic manner. "We could always un-fell you, right?"

Crowley shrugged. "Idunno. If She wanted me to return she would've done it already. It's all according to her Ineffable Pla- Oh yeah, before I forget, didn't you three-" He gestured towards Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon, "assault Zira? He told be something about you punching 'im. Not very angel-ly, is it?"

Gabriel sputtered. "Wait, WHAT?!"

Crowley nodded. "Yup. Anyways, can I go home now?" 

"NO!"

* * *

* * *

Anathema was slightly puzzled. "Didnt he tell you about it?" He _was_ significantly closer to the angel. Aziraphale shook his head and said, "Er, no. He didn't have a reason to."

Anathema nodded and sipped on the chamomile tea that Newton had placed on the table for her. She made a mental note to thread lightly as Crowley would have had a fairly good reason for not telling the angel about his fall. "So, what would you like to know?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat slightly and said, "Well, I would like to ask if the Archangel Raphael was involved in any way." 

Anathema frowned at her tea. "No, I don't think so. Anthony didn't tell me about any of the angels that he met."

Aziraphale was a little crestfallen. He nodded and thanked her for her time.

I guess that I just have to ask for someone else's help, he thought.

* * *

* * *

"So, any real reasons that I'm here, or is it just for a chat?" 

"We wanted to know how you and Aziraphale survived."

Shit. Crowley winced and said rather desperately, "I gotta go now, who knows how much time had passed back down there?"

None of the Archangels were convinced but they let him go anyway. 

Just as Crowley was leaving, Gabriel ran up to him and said, "Word of the warning, we've received notice that your buddy down there is asking a lot of questions about Raphael."

Crowley thinned his lips and nodded. He smiled a bit and said, "Good to see ya' again, brother ."

It's been six thousand years, thought the Archangel rather bitterly.

He turned around and walked off, leaving Gabriel behind. 

"Ciao."

* * *

* * *

Aziraphale knocked on the door feverishly. The door opened and standing there was the Anthichrist. "Yes?" The Destroyer of Kingdoms asked. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and smiled. "Hello there, I was wondering if you could do me a favour." 

Adam nodded and let him enter. "Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale are upstairs having a Nerf war. So watch out for flying books and other fly-able stuff."

Aziraphale kept that in mind. "So, what is it that you need help with?", Adam asked.

"I need you to track someone down for me."

"Oh, is this a spy mission or something?" 

* * *

* * *

A month. It's been a month since Aziraphale last saw Crowley. He was beginning to feel very worried. Adam had helped him make a device that will go off if Raphael was ever close by. Aziraphale had asked him why he couldn't just bring him here, but the kid simply shrugged and said,"It's out of my jurisdiction." The angel was slightly concerned whether the former Anthichrist actually knew how to use the word.

The bells by the door jangled as a visitor made his way in. The device started to play some rather obnoxious music, a signal that the Archangel had entered the building. 

"Hey, angel! No need to fuss over me, I'm fine. Anyways, how long has it been since the party?" 

Aziraphale let go of the breath that he had been holding. It was just Crowley. The angel couldn't help but to feel a little disappointed, though. 

"Crowley, where on Earth have you been? It's been a month since we all last saw you!"

Crowley winced. "Ooh, that long, huh?" Aziraphale was annoyed by how lightly Crowley was taking the situation. The Principality brushed that aside and Crowley made his way towards that backroom. 

"Er... Angel, what's all this?"

He was pointing to the stacks of books, papers and maps laid out on the table that he could've sworn was not there the last time he'd visited.

"wait! Don't-" 

Crowley picked up a loose leaf of paper and frowned as he read it. 

"Why are you looking for Raphael?"

The device was blaring at full volume now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ineffable Doofuses have a little spat but it all ends good and well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't know how this would end. So... 
> 
> *proceeds to type the first thing that comes to mind*
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy.

_"Why are you looking for Raphael?"_

The device was slowly starting to die down with Aziraphale's command, making the room eerily silent. Crowley stood there, in front of Aziraphale, with his eyes blocked out by his sunglasses. Aziraphale didn't know whether he should be glad about that: on one hand, he didn't need to suffer the wrath of Crowley's confused and disappointed glare, but on the other, he wouldn't have the slightest clue of what Crowley was feeling. Of course, he could still feel the love radiating from the said demon, but he couldn't help but fear that it was wavering a little. The angel considered the excuses that he could give, the ways he could twist the truth _just a little bit. _

Then, he remembered all those times that he'd lied to Crowley. The times that he'd lied to himself, even. That Crowley wasn't his friend, that demons couldn't love, that Heaven actually did care for him, and that he didn't love the witty, kind-hearted serpent in front of him. 

Well, he was done with all the lies. 

"I was searching for them because... well, I assumed that you were concerned about their wellbeing as you two were probably friends in Heaven before your- er... fall, and-"

"You looked for him right behind my back. Right. Why did you even assume that we knew each other?"

Aziraphale could hear the annoyance and mistrust in the demon's voice. The angel could feel his face twitch in annoyance. He'd spent a lot of effort to help Crowley and _this_ is how he gets treated? Like it was all _his_ fault for caring about the demon. 

It was then that he'd also realized that Crowley hadn't been completely honest with him. 

"It was not like you were here! And perhaps, if you'd just answer my questions instead of dodging them like they were the fucking plague, I wouldn't have had to waste all my effort to search for them. But I probably shouldn't have expected much from you should I? Seeing how you're a _demon_." The angel all but spat the last word out.

Crowley snarled in response, and Aziraphale's heart dropped and most likely shattered into a trillion pieces. He hadn't missed how the demon's lip quivered as said demon took a step back, retracting like a threatened snake.

The serpent shot back, "That's real nice of you, _angel_. Remind the demon who deserved to fall lesss than you do that he'ss been cast out of Mother's grace. And-- and what, it's now _my_ fault that I was preventing someone's privacy from being invaded? Excuse me for knowing that he doesssn't want to be found! Because according to you and the rest of Heaven, he fucking _fled_. Not only that, but you've gone behind my back looking for them because you knew that they would-- would smite me! I'm not fucking daft, _angel_." 

Aziraphale barely noticed the fact that Crowley used the word 'Mother' to describe God.

"I. Was. Trying to help! And don't you _angel_ me, you- you lowly no-good bastard." the Principality gritted out between his teeth as he stomped up to the demon and shoved him lightly; trying his best to control his temper.

Crowley scoffed, a sound that almost made the angel snap, "Yeah, you _were_ tryin' to help. Nice to know that you can finally look out for yourself and the entirety of Heaven without my interference. _Angel_." 

Aziraphale made a noise of frustration, finally deciding that it was pointless trying to reason with Crowley. 

He pushed past the demon and said, "I was trying to help you and Heaven to find Raphael because I know what it feels like to not be able to be with a loved one. You may not be able to comprehend the fact that people actually do care for you, but I hope that you would be able to someday. But for now, I would very much appreciate it if you would leave. Good day."

Aziraphale walked to the front and Crowley said, "That's right, run away from your problems, that's the only thing you're good at. I don't need your help! And Heaven already knows where Raphael is, and he - hE'SS DEAD!" 

The events that unfolded later happened were so fast that it was a blur to Aziraphale.

All he remembered was hearing a SMACK and standing over Crowley, who was cradling his left cheek. The demon's glasses were now slanted, revealing his wide eyes. 

Aziraphale put the two and two together.

He'd hit Crowley. 

He raised a shaky hand and pointed to the door of the bookshop. "Please leave."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't do this anymore guys, I'm sorry


End file.
